


By the Book

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Light Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 14:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18605974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke's editor tells her that her sex scenes are getting repetitive. To Bellamy, it doesn't seem like a huge deal--her books are good, the scenes are good, and he knows she doesn't love writing them anyway--but Clarke is, as always, kind of a competitive perfectionist. She's not just going to let it go.And when she needs some help figuring out the problem, Bellamy's going to be there for her, obviously. What are best friends for?





	By the Book

"You know, I was going to ask you something, but then I realized there was no point."

Bellamy flicks his eyes away from his grading to glance at Clarke, curled into her favorite armchair, a slight frown on her face as she looks at her laptop. It's not an uncommon position and expression for her--it's her standard writing pose--but the crease between her eyes seems deeper than usual.

"And then you found five dollars?" he offers.

The huff of laughter relaxes her face. "Yeah, okay, sorry. I realized my mouth was open and just went with it."

"Title of your sex tape."

"Actually kind of relevant." She smiles. "My editor thinks my sex scenes need work, and I was going to ask you about it, but then I remembered this isn't a universal problem."

"You were going to ask me if anyone ever told me my sex scenes need work? I'm pretty sure my high-school girlfriend would have some pretty harsh feedback."

"Apparently I'm getting boring. Like, I always follow the same template for sex scenes. Which is probably true."

Bellamy felt kind of awkward, the first time he read one of Clarke's books. They'd been roommates for a couple months before she admitted to writing as a side gig, this semi-dirty little secret.

"I started in college," she explained, with a kind of helpless smile. "I was worried my mom was going to cut me off if I didn't go to med school, and I saw all those trashy romance novels in Walmart, and I was like--those can't be that hard to write. I read a bunch, figured out the formula, and started writing my own."

On a very basic level, that was completely accurate. Clarke started out writing the kind of cheap, mass-produced romances that Bellamy had seen by grocery-store checkouts for his whole life, but it was impossible for her to keep her world view out of it. As she came to understand her own sexuality, her heroines became more open and curious. As she became more aware of problematic tropes, she worked on avoiding them. The romance genre on the whole was evolving as she was writing, too, and she moved soon from the boilerplate, trashy romances to something more nuanced and progressive. She's doing interesting things, and Bellamy found himself focusing much less on the fact that he was reading his roommate's erotica and much more on the fact that it was good.

At least until he realized he was (maybe, kind of) into his roommate, at which point it got kind of awkward, but not awkward enough he was going to stop reading.

"You don't like writing sex, right?" he asks.

She shrugs. "It's not my favorite. I think I just--get in my head."

His grading isn't going to get done until this conversation is over; he sets it aside to focus on her. "About the sex?"

"I get hung up on logistics. And, like--what kind of sex would the characters be having? Would it be in-character for them to be hooking up in a closet? Are they really that creative with the sex?"

Bellamy snorts. "You know you're writing wish-fulfillment, right?"

"Characterization matters!" She rubs her face. "I don't know, I just think about getting fucked up against a wall and I get the appeal? But whenever I start writing it, I'm thinking about how it would be painful and I'd be achy and if there's a guy involved he'd keep slipping out. I like wish-fulfillment sex, but I usually do, like--everyone comes and has fun, not _we're having sex in a raft that's going over a waterfall and it's perfect_."

"Is that anyone's fantasy?"

"If there's one thing I've learned from the internet, it's that everything is someone's fantasy." She sighs. "I think it's partly that I'm always writing first and second times? And those usually start out pretty tame for me. I've gotten adventurous in relationships, but it usually takes a while. But I'm also probably kind of in a rut."

"A sex rut or a writing rut?"

"Both. It's not like I'm having any exciting sex right now."

Obviously, Bellamy has _some_ awareness of Clarke's sex life--he knows she's home most nights and hasn't been going out on dates--but it's not something they talk about. His heart rate ticks up, and he feels his palms start to tingle. Talking about sex with your crush is always stupidly, giddily nerve-wracking, no matter how old and mature you're supposed to be, and even if your crush is also one of your best friends.

"You think you need to get laid more? You always said you didn't have to be having good sex to write good sex."

"Not that, just--" She flops back with a groan. "Fuck. It's hard to have exciting fantasies when just getting laid sounds completely unrealistic."

"I'm pretty sure you could get laid if you wanted to. Maybe even have it be a fun fantasy thing. Pick someone up in a bar, ask if they want to have sex somewhere weird--"

"My favorite pickup line."

"Not to be shallow, but you're a hot blonde, you probably don't need much of a line." He pauses. "Is there a particular scene you're working on?" He helps her work th

"Honestly? I put _insert sex scene here_ into the manuscript and Monty decided I needed a come-to-Jesus email about how I've lost my touch."

"What kind of sex scene is it? First time?"

"Yeah. It's supposed to be really dramatic and romantic and I feel like the only way I know to write that is tearing off each other's clothes, making out, fucking."

"That seems like a pretty good way to write it." He taps his jaw. "How much help do you want with this? What do you see me doing?"

"Telling me if you think I'm right."

"Right about what, exactly?"

"Most people, their first time having sex, aren't going to be that fancy."

"Probably, but you already know your books aren't a perfect mirror of reality. So why is statistically improbably good sex harder than statistically improbable other stuff?"

She smiles. "Maybe I'm just really vanilla."

"Maybe."

"One time Lexa tried to eat me out when I was sitting on the counter and I fell in the sink."

"And that's a traumatic memory, okay. Next time, try it farther away from the sink."

"Our kitchen was pretty small." She sighs. "Can you just reread some of my sex scenes and tell me if they're too repetitive? I want a second opinion on that."

"I can handle that. Don't worry too much," he adds. "I know you're in your head, but I've already read all your books and you're good. You write good sex."

"Thanks. I just--I know they're important. I want the readers to be satisfied. But I feel like simple can still be satisfying. The drama can come before the sex, and after is just--"

"Easy."

She smiles. "That's got to be someone's fantasy, right?"

"Definitely." He heaves a heavy sigh and grabs his iPad. "So, I have to reread a bunch of porn, huh?"

"If you don't mind."

"I'll live."

He's got most of her stuff as ebooks, like any considerate friend would, and he pulls up her most recent novella--sci fi polyamory, already a favorite--and skims for the sex scenes.

An hour later, he has to admit Monty might have a point.

"So, you want the bad news?"

Clarke puts her laptop aside. "Hit me."

"Your sex scenes are pretty formulaic."

"My books are pretty formulaic," she shoots back, smiling.

"You remember you asked me to help you with this, right? If you don't want to hear it--"

"No, no, I do. What makes the sex more formulaic than the plot?"

"They're shorter," he says, and she rolls her eyes. "You're right, the books are formulaic too, but it's a pretty broad formula. People meet, fall in love, have something that keeps them from getting together, overcome it, happily ever after. But reading all these together, I realized it's not just that your sex scenes follow the same kind of arc, they're usually serving the same story function too."

"First times," she agrees. 

"Not always. Like--" He scrolls through the ebooks, looking for the right one. " _My Last Mistake_? That was about exes getting back together, so it wasn't actually their first time. But it still has the same narrative function. The first time they have sex, it's good but something is missing because they haven't figured out the emotions yet. Then there's another sex scene where they've resolved all of the conflicts and it's good, and that's how the reader figures sex is going to be for them from now on. It's not bad, but I can see why Monty thinks you're in a rut. Even if it's a threesome and the position is different, it's kind of--"

"Yeah." She nods. "That makes sense. So when I just have _insert sex scene here_ \--"

"I get that you don't want to write it, but maybe if it didn't feel like the exact same sex scene you'd written twenty times before, you'd be more excited about it."

"Okay, so--maybe I take a break."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"The book hasn't been announced yet, I don't have a hard deadline for the first draft. Besides, Monty's the one who wants me to write more exciting sex scenes."

"So what's the plan?"

"Quick novella. Friends with benefits," she says. "Just, like, tons of sex. Exposure therapy. Or maybe not even friends? Like--just casual sex partners, and then they build the relationship with sex, instead of the conflict coming from outside."

"Do you actually want to write that?"

"I want to write better sex scenes, so--"

"Clarke, remember how I read all your sex scenes in a row in less than an hour? That's the only reason I noticed. And they're still good. You don't have to write non-stop smut to prove a point."

"It does sound kind of fun," she admits, like she's embarrassed about it. "Maybe I just don't like writing sex because I keep writing the same sex scenes. And that would be a new dynamic, right?"

"Yeah, you haven't written that before."

"Okay." She nods, once, making an agreement with herself. "Thanks for the help. I feel a lot better."

He feels like he read every sex scene his crush has written in a very limited timespan, but that's not exactly new for him. And he'll definitely have a nice jerkoff session before bed tonight. "Sure," he says. "Any time."

*

"Have you ever hooked up in a bathroom stall?"

Bellamy considers for a second. "That's where the first hookup is? Classy."

"I'm not hearing a no."

"I hooked up in a dorm bathroom in college. It could have been worse. I assume your characters are in a bar or a club or something."

"Bar." He twirls his hand for her to go on and she grins, like she somehow wasn't expecting this. Like he doesn't always want to know more. "Okay, so the protagonist is Grace, late twenties. She married her high-school boyfriend but he was kind of an asshole. They had a boring sex life and he said a lot of shitty things in the divorce, so she's not feeling great about herself."

"I hate her ex already."

"Good. So she's venting to the hot bartender about how she's bad at sex and she doesn't know how she'll ever get back out there since no one's going to be interested in her, and he's like, plenty of people will be."

"Including him."

"Yeah, but she doesn't really get that."

"So he offers to fuck her?"

"Yup. She wants something more exciting than standard missionary like she always did with her husband, so he fucks her in the bathroom because that's something she said she missed out on not dating in her early twenties."

He really does like Clarke's premises. "So you want me to fact-check sex in a bathroom stall? I was with a guy, I blew him and then he jerked me off. I don't know if it's really helpful."

"Was it really cramped?"

"It wasn't the best place to have sex, but I assume they're kind of drunk. Or at least she is."

"Yeah."

"So just have it be hot and kind of weird and a little exciting because it's in public. I can confirm it's possible to have sex in a bathroom stall, no one's going to tell you that doesn't work."

She gives him a crooked smile. "I told you I get in my head."

"What," he asks, "do you need to go into a bathroom stall and test it?"

He says it without thinking, without really registering what he's offering. Says it easily and naturally only because it doesn't occur to him what it means. Only because he doesn't realize it will change his life.

She lights up. "Honestly? That would really help."

Which is how he finds himself unlocking the high school on a Saturday afternoon so he can let himself and Clarke in. It's not his first choice of location to have fake sex with his roommate, but it's a place with bathroom stalls and no one around that they can access without anyone asking any questions.

Plus the odds of his getting carried away and doing something stupid are lowest here. The school is probably the last place on Earth he would consider getting laid. 

"You better dedicate this book to me," he grumbles, triple-checking that no one is around before they slip into the bathroom.

" _For Bellamy, my sex consultant_."

"I was going to go with _longsuffering best friend_."

"I'll workshop it." She glances down the line of stalls. "This is cleaner than I was expecting."

"Yeah, you should mention the bar one smells like old beer and vomit."

"I thought this was supposed to be a fantasy."

"Old beer and vomit,but in a good way."

"I did write that it wasn't actually a great place to get laid. Second from the left," she tells, like he might object, like maybe he wanted to pretend to fuck her in a different stall. When he doesn't, she takes a deep breath and says, "After you."

It's weird, going into a bathroom stall with someone else. The last time he did it, he'd been drunk and horny and nineteen, which went a long way toward making it not weird. Or at least towards it not feeling weird.

Now it's three p.m. and he's wondering how many of his students have hooked up in this exact place.

"Okay, so, can you shove me against the door?" Clarke asks, in the same tone she'd use to ask him to pass the remote.

"For what?"

"So I know what it feels like."

"For a writer, you really suck at using your imagination. But I meant what's the guy supposed to be doing? Kissing, oral, fingering, PIV, what?"

"Kissing, then getting her off with his fingers, then fucking her."

There's no way to not think about going through that exact progression with Clarke, but he does his best.

"Okay," he says, and traps her up against the door, the sudden closeness almost too much. She smells like soap and shampoo, and her eyes are wide and blue as she watches him.

"Okay," she says. "Can I--"

"It must be bad if you're asking."

"I just want to wrap my legs around your waist! Test the logistics."

This is the worst idea he has ever had in his entire fucking life.

"Yeah, we can try that."

They get her positioned so that, if they were both naked, his dick could definitely be going into her, and then he tries a few thrusts of varying strengths because Clarke wants to check how the door feels against her back, and they both pretend he's not getting kind of hard, because that's normal, right? That's how dicks work. It's not personal.

"Cool," says Clarke. There's a flush creeping up her neck and she can't quite meet his eyes. "I think that's it. Someone could totally have good sex in this bathroom."

"I wouldn't if I could avoid it, but yeah."

"So--we're good?"

It's her book, but he's pretty sure she's not really asking if the scene is okay.

The answer is the same either way. "Yeah, we're good."

*

"What should Derek tie her up with?"

Bellamy frowns. "Your romantic lead is named _Derek_?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You can't name him that. I'm going to spend the whole book hearing Jason Mantzoukas saying _Maximum Derek_ every time he does anything."

"That's what he says when he climaxes," Clarke says, and he throws his pen at her. "Okay, fine, I'll give him another name. The question stands."

After the weirdness of his pretending to fuck her in a high-school bathroom stall, Bellamy thought he might be done as sex consultant. Which would have been fair; he's answered plenty of her questions, but he's never been so hands-on before.

Still, he didn't want to _stop_. 

"What's the context?"

"So, they had the bathroom sex, it was good. She tries out a couple dating apps and doesn't have any luck, so she goes back to the bar to ask--" She pauses. "Jason? I can only think of characters from _The Good Place_ now."

"Is there any textual reason I can't imagine him as Manny Jacinto?"

"Nope."

"Then yeah, name him Jason."

She grins. "Okay, so, yeah. She asks Jason if he's interested in something casual so she can get some more experience, and he says yes."

"But he secretly wants more."

"We don't know that. He could just like casual sex."

"Uh huh."

"Anyway, Grace thinks she can't just hook up with him without a gimmick, because--"

"You want to write different kinds of sex scenes," he supplies, and she rolls her eyes.

"She thinks he's just helping her because she's inexperienced, so she needs to come up with new stuff she wants to try out. I figure light bondage is a logical place to start."

"So she wants him to tie her up and fuck her?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, just trying to make sure I get the idea. I assume he doesn't have time to google best at-home bondage techniques or anything."

"It's a fantasy, Bellamy."

He rolls his eyes. "You're worried about how it feels to get fucked in a bathroom stall, but the bondage stuff can just be a fantasy?"

"I figure a lot of people would just go with it."

This time, he does think about it. He pauses, considers what he's going to say and what the consequences might be before he says, "If you want me to tie you up, I'm going to actually do some research first."

Her face gives nothing away. "That would probably be good. I don't think I'm going to say Jason did that, though."

"Research is hot," he grumbles. "Let me go see what I have."

He settles on finding a site that explains how to safely tie someone up using a necktie because that's a popular thing a lot of people want to do, whether or not it's really the best way to do at-home bondage, so someone decided to make a tumblr post about how to do it if that was what you were into. And he has a couple old ties that he hates, so he can stretch one out and he won't miss it. It's better than going out to buy some rope.

Which just leaves the next step of actually tying her up.

"So, uh--where are we doing this?"

"I don't have a headboard," she says.

"I was just going to tie your hands over your head," he says. "Do I need to tie you to a headboard? Is that something you're testing out?"

She shakes her head. "No. I haven't written the scene yet, so I can work with whatever you want to do."

That's not what he needs to hear right now, but he just nods. "Okay, so--we can just do it in here?"

"Yeah. Where do you want me?"

"On your back, hands over your head? If you can work with that."

"Yeah." She climbs onto the bed, cautious, stretching out on her back with her hands over her head, and this might be the stupidest thing he's ever done. It's certainly in the top ten. "Like this?" she prompts.

"Yeah." He swallows, crawls onto the bed himself and settles by her chest with the tie. "Okay, so--if anything feels bad, just tell me. I've never done this before."

"No?"

"You seem convinced I have this really exciting sex life."

"I think it's more--you seem like you'd be good with whatever."

"Clearly."

"I guess I just figured that if anyone you were dating wanted to do something like this, it would be easy to tell you. You're easy to talk to."

"Well, maybe no one I dated ever wanted me to tie them up." He gets her hands positioned correctly and winds the tie around her wrists. "Did you want to get tied up and you didn't know how to ask?"

"I'll try anything once."

"Is this too tight?"

"How would I know?"

He slides his fingers between her skin and the silk of the tie. "I can do that, which is the check I was supposed to do. How do your hands feel?"

"Fine."

"Okay." He finishes the knot and rocks back on his heels, watching her. "How does everything else feel?"

She tests the binding, seeing if she can get out, but he's not bad at knots. "Like I'm tied up."

Now is the time when he should untie her, because this is it, right? They verified he can tie her up with a tie and it works. That was all she needed to test, as far as he knew. "So, you haven't written it yet? What do you think they're going to do?"

"I thought he'd eat her out first."

"Good start."

"Yeah." She shifts a little, but her next words are sure, deliberate. "I always thought that would be really hot. Getting eaten out while I was tied up."

The thing is, there's a kind of plausible deniability here. Bellamy can shove Clarke against a bathroom stall or tie her up because they're friends and she asked, and it's not actually _normal_ , but it's not something they have to talk about. It's for research purposes. They already know why they're doing it.

He's not sure that applies to oral sex, but Clarke's not an idiot. She knows what she's doing here.

"That does sound hot." He wets his lips, lets his eyes sweep over her. "You want to try it out?"

"Do you?"

"I'll try anything once," he teases, ghosting his hand over the fly of her jeans. "You need to say you want to, Clarke."

"If you don't mind." He moves his hand away and she bites her lip, huffs. "I want to."

It doesn't mean anything except that Clarke hasn't gotten laid in a while and is writing about her own fantasies, which he opted in to helping her out with, but it doesn't have to. They can have fun.

"Was that so hard?" he asks, and presses a kiss to her stomach, over her t-shirt. "All you had to do was ask."

He pops the button on her jeans and she arches her hips for him, letting him tug them down and off. Her underwear isn't actually new to him--they've been roommates for years, he's seen her do enough laundry that he could list most of her clothing, including intimates--but it's still exciting to see them on her. They're gray with small, pink polka dots and a frilly band, nothing very fancy, and he kisses down her stomach, rubs her through the fabric of the panties with one finger.

"How long has it been?" he asks.

"Too long."

He nips her inner thigh gently. "It's been about thirteen months for me. Your turn."

"Two years?"

It's about what he expected. "So I should make this good."

There's a lot to choose from on the long list of things he wants to do to Clarke, even when the list has been narrowed down to the much more specific category of _oral while she's tied up_. And she's not nearly wet or desperate enough yet for his purposes.

So he pulls back, pushes up her shirt and finds, to his delight, that she's wearing a bra that clasps in the front.

"Coincidence or planned?" he asks, toying with the closure.

"Luck."

"Is this cool?"

Her breathing is hot and fast, and she squirms again. "Anything, yeah."

Her breasts spill out of the bra as soon as it's open, and he has to pause just to look at this, to commit it to memory. Clarke, spread out under him, flushed and gorgeous, desperate for _him_.

"Fuck, Clarke," he murmurs, leads down to to nuzzle the hollow between her breasts. "This was such a good idea."

In general, Bellamy likes sex where his partner is just as involved and active as he is, and there's some adjustment to Clarke's participation here, when she can't touch him back like he'd expect her to. It would feel one-sided, except that Clarke's more than making up for it in moaning, pleading, and telling her how good he feels and how she needs more. She's trying to thrust her hips up against him to get some stimulation where she needs it most, but he's not giving her anything. If she wants to be tied up, he figures she wants him in control too.

"You need more?" he asks, when she's actually begging for it.

"Yes," she gasps. "Please, Bellamy, I want--"

He's not sure anything in his life has been hotter than her saying his name like that, strung out and desperate and aching.

"I need you," she corrects, and that's somehow even hotter.

"Okay," he says, kissing her breast, soft. "I've got you."

He pulls her underwear off, takes just a second to take her in again before he leans down, kissing both her thighs and then finally letting his mouth settle on her clit.

Clarke lets out a broken sound, something relieved and desperate all at once, because this isn't what she needs, not really. What she needs is to come, finally, and he settles in to give her this orgasm fast. He slides two fingers in her right away, groans himself when he feels how hot she is, how wet. 

Then he gets his brain back on track. He's got other things to do with his mouth than groan right now.

The first orgasm comes as quickly as he knew it would; he sucks her clit and strokes his fingers inside her and she rolls her hips, matching his desperate pace. She comes with a sharp cry, but he doesn't stop, just slows down, turning the tail end of this orgasm into the start of the next.

It's only then that he starts wondering about himself. He's been hard since she said how she'd fantasized about this, but he doesn't know where his getting off factors into all this. He doesn't want Clarke to feel obligated, to do anything she doesn't want to, but--

Her second orgasm crashes through her as he's mentally tabulating the pros and cons of humping the stupid mattress, and she pushes him off with her thigh, since her hands can't help.

"Good?"

"Will you fuck me?" she asks, sounding surprisingly shy. "Or is that--"

"Yeah," he says, too quickly. "That's what happens next?"

"Yeah."

"Let me grab a condom. Are your hands okay? Still want to be tied up?"

She moves her hands from over her head to in front of her and back, stretching as best she can within the restraints. "Yeah, I'm good."

He kicks off his own jeans and boxers but leaves his shirt on; it feels less intimate, less serious. Because this is just--casual. Relief of tension. Research.

Fun.

He makes sure his condoms haven't expired and slides one on, crossing back over to the bed and lying next to Clarke. Her hair is a mess and she looks a little wrung out, but happy.

"Any requests?"

"Kiss me?" she asks, still shy, and he slides his hand into her hair and does it, her mouth warm and eager under his. He shifts on top of her and she manages to get her arms over his head, settling against his back. He doesn't break the kiss as he lines himself up, but they both gasp as he pushes inside her. It's been a long time, and she feels so good, it's unreal.

"Fuck, this is going to be quick," he says, forcing himself to stay still and let her adjust.

"I've already gotten off twice," she points out. "Don't worry about it."

Not worrying isn't exactly his strong suit, so he just kisses her again, starts to thrust, keeping the slow pace right up until she wraps a leg around his waist, bringing him back to how much he wanted to fuck her in the bathroom, and then he gives up. He fucks her hard and deep, but she doesn't seem to mind, and he's about ninety-percent sure she does come again, even if he's too lost in his own orgasm to fully register it. She definitely has a good time, if nothing else.

"Good?" he asks, when he's finally regained his breath. "Get everything you need?"

She laughs, shakes her head, looking dazed and happy and perfect. "And then some. Thanks."

*

Obviously the smart, mature thing to do would be to have a conversation about what happened. The _really_ smart, mature thing would have been to have that conversation before he fucked her, but that ship has already sailed. He only has so many options at this point.

Clarke has elected to be aggressively normal, which doesn't make it easier. He doesn't really think she thinks it was a mistake, but she also seems to think it wasn't a big deal, or she's not willing to act like it was a big deal, which he isn't either, so--

So he should just ask her about it. But somehow having sex is so much easier than having a conversation.

Not that he's having more sex with Clarke, either, which is probably why the way he finally _does_ bring the whole thing up is with, "How's the story going?"

She continues her campaign of normalcy by taking the question in stride. "Okay. I decided to overcome my trauma by letting them have bar sex where she doesn't fall into a sink. But now I'm kind of stalled out."

"Already?"

She huffs. "I want it to still be interesting? Like--what makes the sex scene worth writing instead of just putting it in a montage? _For the next few weeks, Jason came over after he was done with work so the two of them could work through more of Grace's fantasies._ What's the actual sex scene doing?"

"Other than giving you practice writing sex scenes, which is what you wanted?"

"Other than that."

"Okay, well, let's say you do montage it. What's the sex that you don't want to skip? Which one actually matters to the two of them getting together?"

"That's the question."

He worries his lip, feeling the conversation drifting into murkier water. But this was _his_ idea. "Has she asked him what he wants? Not, like--advancing the relationship. But if the sex stuff has been about what she wants to try, maybe she could ask if he's got anything."

"That's a really good idea," she says. And then, inevitably, "Any fantasies you think I should use?"

"He's your character."

"So, no?"

He sighs, leans back. "Anal's kind of the go-to? I feel like that's the thing guys are always supposed to want that women are supposed to not want. So that always works."

"You don't sound particularly enthusiastic."

"I'm bi, I've had plenty of anal sex. It's fine, but it's not exactly my thing. That doesn't mean it's not Jason's."

The pause is long enough that he knows exactly what's coming. "What is your thing?"

This would definitely be a good time to set up some expectations, even if it's just _this is casual and means nothing_. He's pretty sure it is casual and doesn't mean anything, but as long as they haven't said that, he can pretend.

So he dawdles. "Thing I've done and want to do more, or thing I've never done and want to?"

"Never done and want to."

He's already had sex with her, which means that can't be his entire answer, but there's a very high chance that she's going to offer to do whatever he wants here. He should make it count.

"Honestly? I tend to get kind of in my head about sex," he says, careful, putting the words together as he says them. "I've always been kind of into the idea of being blindfolded and told what to do."

"Huh," she says. "I can see that being good for you."

"Yeah?" 

"You'd probably need a safe word," she says, ignoring him. "And some boundaries."

"Probably."

"It would work pretty well for the story. Put Grace in control, that hasn't really happened so far."

"Happy to help." One of them has to actually bite the bullet, and it's probably his turn. "Do you want to try it out? See if it works?"

She lets out a sharp, relieved little laugh. "You know what? That sounds like it would be really helpful."

*

It takes about half an hour to actually get ready. They use the same tie they used for Clarke's hands on his eyes, but she has to test it a couple times to get the knot right. And then she wants to work out guidelines, which makes sense, and is honestly really adorable, and all he really wants to do is forget about exciting, book-worthy sex and drag her into his lap and kiss her for the next twenty-four hours straight.

But that's not really what they're doing, so they agree to traffic-light responses for him when Clarke asks him to do stuff, with green for yes, red for no, and yellow for pause and/or more information, which is almost as good. It's going to result in his getting laid sooner, for sure.

"I think you should start naked," Clarke decides, looking him up and down. "It's just going to be easier than me trying to get you undressed with a blindfold on."

"Yeah, you're probably right." He tugs his shirt off and doesn't miss the appreciative sweep of her eyes over his torso, but tries to ignore the corresponding swoop of hope in his stomach. She's clearly attracted to him; this is their second time having sex. But there are people he'd happily fuck whom he wouldn't date.

"Naked," she prompts, and he loses the rest of his clothes.

"What about you?"

Her smirk literally makes his dick twitch, but she's not looking at it so maybe she didn't notice. "You're not going to know what I'm wearing. Ready for the blindfold?"

"Yeah."

To his surprise, she leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "I'm going to take care of you," she promises, and pushes him to sit on the bed before he can come up with a response.

As soon as the blindfold is on, the anticipation settles under his skin. This isn't a long-time fantasy of his, but it is the fantasy he has with Clarke, the one where she does whatever she wants to him and he doesn't have to worry about doing it right, about guessing what she wants. 

She can do whatever she wants to him, and now he'll know what that is.

"On your back," says Clarke. She doesn't sound as close as she was, but he's not sure what she'd be doing away from the bed.

Which is kind of the point.

He finds he likes having his eyes closed under the blindfold, so he lets them drift shut. Aside from the awareness that he's naked and Clarke is watching him, it doesn't feel that different from settling in to sleep, but the chances of his actually passing out are low.

There's that same unreal quality to time that comes in the darkness before bedtime, though. It feels as if nothing is happening for hours, as if maybe Clarke just left, but he's also not convinced it's been more than a few minutes.

It doesn't help that he's impatient. 

He feels the dip of the bed next to him, hears the springs creek, and then Clarke's fingers on his chest, drawing a curling pattern.

"I wasn't actually sure I'd be into this," she says, conversational. "Not--I wasn't _not_ into it, but I didn't know if it would be a thing for me. But this is hot."

He feels the press of her lips over her heart. _No talking_ wasn't actually a rule, but it feels kind of right. He wants to hear what Clarke thinks.

"I didn't really get to look at you last time. And now I get to look as much as I want. Also I can't believe your fantasy got you out of doing _anything_. You're making me figure out this entire sex scene."

She straddles his left thigh, and he doesn't know if she's totally naked, but she's not wearing underwear and he can already feel her getting wet against his skin, making his dick jump.

"I guess I should have checked that. Green?"

"Green," he says.

"How about touching me?"

"Green."

She takes his left wrist and then his right, gets both his hands on her ass. "I know you like me getting off first, so I'm just going to grind on you until I come."

"Green," he manages, and she laughs.

"You know you can talk."

"I'd rather listen to you."

She catches his jaw and leans in to kiss him, softer than he was expecting, and he leaves one hand on her ass but lets the other tangle in her hair, letting the strands slide through his fingers. Clarke begins to move her hips slowly, just testing it, and he angles his leg so she can press down harder.

"I like being close to your dick," she says. "Seeing you getting hard for me. God, you've got such a nice dick. I didn't get to look at enough last time. Or feel it enough."

"Fuck," he breathes, and Clarke's mouth drifts down his body, dropping kisses against his jaw, his neck, the curve of his shoulder. 

"Yeah," she says. "Fucking is what we're doing." Her hand covers his on her ass, urging him to hold her tighter, press her in, and he obeys, not just letting her ride his leg but pushing her into it, helping her go as hard as she can. He hadn't expected her to be that turned on yet, but apparently watching him naked and blindfolded on a bed really does it for her, because she's already desperate for him. She's gasping, her breasts pressed against his chest, and part of him wishes he was really seeing her, but it's so hot he can't really care that much. 

Her orgasm comes with a sharp gasp against his neck, and she slumps into him, breathing hard, aftershocks making her twitch against his thigh.

He kisses her hair, and he feels her smile curl against his chest. He's thinking there might actually be a little basking in the afterglow, but then she kisses his sternum and keeps moving down, past abs his abs and his bellybutton, and he manages, "Yellow."

"What?"

"Are you going to blow me?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know if I have two rounds in me," he admits.

"And you want to fuck me instead? Because I really want to get my mouth on your dick," she adds, practically _purring_. "I didn't get to do it last time, and I want to know what you taste like."

"Jesus," he mutters. "Okay, yeah. Whatever you want."

Someone blowing him when he can't see them is definitely weird, but not in a bad way. She doesn't go right for his dick, so every touch of her mouth is a surprise. She kisses his thighs, slides her hands over his hips, nuzzles into the hollow of his hipbones. She's taking her time and he has no idea when the main event is going to start.

She presses her lips to the tip of his cock and his hips jerk, but the next kiss is back to his thigh.

"Clarke," he manages, and she licks a stripe right next to his dick.

"Green?"

"Green."

Her hand comes up to cup his balls, and then her mouth sinks onto him, hot and wet. She slides down to cover just the head of his dick and then slides back off, pressing more kisses over the shaft, like she's learning the shape of him just with her mouth. He shifts, groans, and her soft laugh is the only indication he has of how she's feeling, but it seems like a good sign.

"You taste even better than I thought," she says, which is fucking unfair, and then she's back on him. She can't take him as deep as some people he's slept with have, but she sucks dick with an enthusiasm and determination that's as unsurprising as it is endearing. Clarke is one of those people who refuses to be bad at things, and it feels like this was a skill she's been honing.

And her hard work definitely paid off. He manages to choke out a warning before he comes, and Clarke pulls back just long enough to say, "Green."

Then she slides back down and sucks his dick harder than he thinks anyone ever has in his entire life up to this point, and he comes hot and messy and breathless.

By the time he's recovered his senses, Clarke has curled around him, every inch of her naked body pressed against his, and it's almost better than the blowjob.

"Fuck," he breathes.

"Was that enough? We can keep going if--"

He fumbles for her face, finds it without too much trouble and pulls her down for a kiss. She settles on top of him, one hand sliding up to push the blindfold off of him, and they just make out, long and slow and easy, for so long he feels like he's melted.

"I don't know how to finish the story," she admits, resting her face against his neck.

"Hm?" His brain feels like pudding.

"I know she needs to just--tell him how she feels, at some point. But I don't know what makes her decide to take the risk. She's got a good thing going, she doesn't want to mess it up."

"I'm not saying no one would ever do that for someone they didn't want to date," he says, pulling he closer. "But, uh--I think most people wouldn't. I definitely wouldn't."

She laughs, puts her hand over his heart. "Okay, so--I'm in love with you."

It's more a relief than a surprise, at this point, but still a profound relief. "I love you too," he says, and rolls them over so he's on top of her, grinning down at her. "At what point did this actually become a seduction plan?"

She grins, and the blindfold thing was fun, but he really likes seeing her, too. "As soon as I thought it might work."

"Are you actually writing a book?"

"It's a _novella_ , and I'm going to make you read it before I submit it to Monty so you can tell me it's not too based on a true story." She slides her hand into his hair and tugs him down to kiss him again. "But it still needs an ending."

"Happily ever after," he teases. "Obviously."

She laughs. "Obviously. What else could it be?"

*

The novella, when it comes out, has five sex scenes, a love confession, and a happy ending.

It's also has a dedication, which, despite how excellent the rest of it is, is hands-down his favorite part.

_For Bellamy, who made sure everything worked out._


End file.
